Beneath the drooping myall’s gloom,
To sit at eve and mourn an hour,
And pluck a leaf from Leichardt’s tomb.”[1]
As the parson concluded his recital, the suspicion of a gentle little sob came from the direction where Annie was sitting, whilst Bell and Mat said they thought that they would take a turn and finish their smoke in the garden, until it was time to go to bed.
The next day, after breakfast, the squire said,—
“Come along, Mat, let’s go towards the stockyard; I want to have a chat with you. You will have to hang your hat up here. I will show you a room I have for you in the bachelors’ quarters presently.”
“You are very kind,” answered our forester, who had noticed the little preparations made for him, and had been thinking it all over; “but I would rather join Tom at the out-station.”
“Bless my soul! Why, you have had enough of a lonely life, surely, my boy. Tom is out all day, and there are only blacks there, besides a stockman.”
“Well, squire, I’d like to see Tom again; besides, I am not used to ladies’ society.”
“My prophetic soul! Stuff and nonsense! Mrs. Bell wants to hear your adventures from your own lips, and says you must stay. I’ll call her. Follow me into the house!”